


Now

by Desdimonda



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:12:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji helps Mercy after battle when she can't remove her wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now

Mercy’s fingers missed the latch of her wings as she tried to un-clip them from her back. She swore, her bare, uncovered fingers catching the metal edge.

“Let me help,” came a familiar voice, the hiss of his metal steps, gentle, across the floor.

Mercy cast a glance over her shoulders to her company; Genji, and beneath a lock of hair, smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, straightening her back as she felt him approach. He could be soundless if he wished; his presence withdrawn, unknown to all until the blade met their body. But this was not the battlefield; this was - what was this? 

This was 4am. This was a ruined high rise, where they had made camp. This was time for rest. This was-

He touched the remaining wing on her back with his lithe fingers, the gentle tap of metal on metal, pleasant in the silent room, echoing off the broken walls. 

“You have done so much for me, Angela” he said, curving a hand around her shoulder as he held her back steady. “This is the least I can do.”

At the sound of her birth name, Mercy, smiled. Few called her by that these days. Her enemies liked to call her that. Her friends called her Mercy. But Genji - he - he was her friend, right? 

“I just did what was right,” she said, simply, her words falling to a sigh as Genji lifted off the wing, easing the weight off of her back. On instinct, she leaned back, unsteady at the lost weight that she had carried for almost a full day. Genji’s hand slid to her arm, gentle fingers holding her in place as she stumbled back a step. “You do not need to thank me.”

“I do.”

Genji’s fingers sought hers, cold, ungloved, and with a gentle pull, seeking her acceptance, Mercy, turned.

“Your hands are cold,” he said, suddenly, cradling her calloused hand in his own, suspended before his chest. 

Mercy, stared, her wide eyed stare seeking answers. What? She did not know. She did not know if she needed to know. as his fingers trailed over hers, the cybernetic touch unfamiliar - but so familiar - against her flesh.

“Do you remember what it was like to feel cold?” she asked as she wound her fingers between his, dipping her head, shyly.

Genji lifted his other hand and pushed aside the shock of hair that had fallen forward, obscuring her gaze.

“I remember everything,” he said. “I remember what it felt like to dip my toes in the sea, brisk, biting; I remember what it felt like to sip scalding tea, burning my mouth; I remember what is was like to feel the sun, it’s rays bearing down upon my skin.” He paused, taking a step closer, their bodies a breath apart. “I remember what it felt like to kiss.”

At his words, Mercy looked away, the gentle motion of her head falling into his touch. 

From death, she had given him another chance. But - but was it another life? Could she call this, living?

“Are you happy?” she asked, suddenly, her eyes still closed. She couldn’t find the courage to look at him. But his touch was a comfort; his fingers sliding through her loosened hair.

Genji tilted back her head with his thumb.

“I am now.”


End file.
